Every person who says they "love their motherland" must perfectly imagine and take responsibility for the outcomes of this love. It leads to nothing but things colorfully described and portrayed by a Spanish novelist, Arturo Perez-Reverte, in his novel "El Husar". Since it doesn't seem to be available anywhere online, I'll have to do some translation from Spanish:
~~ Glory. Your glory is shit, your squadron is shit. Screw your eagle that De Bourmont died for, the Spanish must already have it anyway. Cursed be your glory, all your banners, and "Vive le Empereur!" shouts. Frederick Glüntz from Strassburg, he used to kill enemies, he killed in the name of France and now he's hiding in the woods, scorched with pain, hunger, and cold, abandoned and alone. It's Frederick, not bloody Bonaparte, screw him. ~~
Exactly this way - it's you, a lover of your motherland, who is to terribly suffer, not your leaders. They're doing alright, they always do, they don't have any war. Their filthy spawn enjoys studying in elite schools in the 1st world. And you, motherland lover, will eventually find yourself trying to put your guts back into your stomach ravaged by some granade/shell fragment. A shell shot by a fool just like you from "that side".
And if you're a woman, don't have any illusions that you'll be safe because you'll never be "there". You'll turn into an ugly, repulsive, filthy crone that is stinking with grief caused by your husband's/brother's/son's/father's fate and your near future financial consequences after your "defender of the motherland" is KIA bodybagged home.
~~ Dirt, blood, and shit. This is war. God, this is all it is, nothing else. ~~
"Glorious victory!", my ass. The novel perfectly models those glory and victory, as it's sometimes perfectly modeled by drunk vets' stories that they keep retelling to each other. There, there're no "heroes", no "glory", no "victory" - only horror, pain, and hell.
~~ God, Motherland, Honor... Glory, France, hussars, battle... () They're all madmen, those who recited this rubbish about honor and glory... Only that dying hussar I met, he understood it all, and that's the reason he shot himself in the end. Old and experienced he was, he knew how to end all that quickly. Others, they didn't know shit. () Dirt, feces, and blood, this is all it is. Loneliness, coldness, and fear. That bare fear that makes you go mad and howl like an animal. ~~
Words like that, they will be confirmed by any vet, especially if interviewed unofficially. Of course, if that's a real vet, not some motherfucker who served somewhere way far behind the lines in the rear; or whose war was only about looting, marauding, and slaying civilians.
This is the love for motherland like it is in reality, and not the rubbish sold to you by propagandists of "your" "country's" regime.